


The Story of Sam and Dean

by sammywinchesterbabe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 09:26:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2463242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammywinchesterbabe/pseuds/sammywinchesterbabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is about Sam and Dean's life together, and how I think their relationship started. They are fighting monsters, being badasses, and falling in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Story of Sam and Dean

He slowly starts to get up as the sun beats through the window, assaulting his eyes. He looks over at the clock; it's only 5:04am. "Aagghhh," Dean says with a groan. Dean is always up this early; it's how his body is trained. He only needs a few hours of sleep and then he is good to go for the rest of the day. He really shouldn't have drank that much last night. Now he get's to enjoy the benefits of a hangover. "Need. Coffee." Dean grumbles to himself.

He sits up while swinging his feet to the side of the bed, stretches his back, and gets up on two unstable legs. Dean stumbles over to the coffee maker and starts it up. While waiting for his  _delicious_ cup of black coffee, he decides to quickly go to the bathroom before his brother gets up.

Once finished, he sees his brother still sound asleep. Dean notices that his brother looks vulnerable and innocent when he's sleeping. He hasn't seen his brother's vulnerable side since he was little, before he knew the truth. A normal child, who by the age of five had started to ask questions, that Dean preferred not to answer. Rubbing his eyes as the flash of his childhood home on fire faded from his vision and sent shivers down his spine - how he wished he could forget those horrible pain filled memories. Dean wanted his little brother to have the childhood and innocence that he never had.

Dean didn't want his baby brother to know what was really out there in this cruel world or why they always had to move around. Why would their dad take off for days at a time? How come they didn't have a mom? That was the worst question out of all of them. Dean remembered he said, "Quit asking man. You don't want to know." He just wanted him to be a kid. Just for a little while longer. He was trying to protect him, keep him safe. Dad didn't even have to tell him. It was always his responsibility. It was in Dean's blood. Ever since he was four, and carried his six-month-old brother out of their burning house. That was his only job, and he was screwing it up.

With a deep sigh he walks back to the coffee maker. Dean pulls out a black ceramic mug and fills it near the top bringing the hot, steaming cup up to his mouth taking a small sip. It tastes like the same coffee he started drinking years ago. It's the same, generic coffee that all these dingy motels supply. He sets the mug down on the table, beside the TV remote. Dean decides to get dressed while waiting for his coffee to cool down a bit. He pulls out a fresh, clean, light blue t-shirt and slips it on. It's his last clean shirt; they're going to have to do laundry soon. He then picks up his jeans from the floor and pulls them on over his tight, dark grey boxer-briefs.

Walking back over to the table, he picks up his coffee and the TV remote. He then walks over to the couch, sits down, kicks his feet up onto the coffee table, and gets comfortable. Now finally drinking his coffee, he flicks the cheap cable on, switching through a few channels before he decides that he will just watch the news. Seeing if there is anything new on the case they're working on.

* * *

 The smell of stale coffee and the dull roar of the local new alerts him to his surroundings before he opens his eyes. He rolls over, now facing the digital clock on the left side of the bed. Taking his time, he opens up his eyes to look at the clock; it's 10:36am. He groans and flips over facing towards the bathroom. "Morning Sammy," he hears a familiar voice hollering to him. He sounds way too happy this morning, Sam thinks to himself. He is not in the mood to put up with Dean today.

Sam begrudgingly sits up in his warm, comfortable bed with the blanket wrapped around him. He doesn't want to get out of his cozy cocoon, that he has concocted from various stolen motel sheets and another night of tossing and turning. Sam unwraps himself and finds his navy blue hoodie at the end of the bed; he slips it over his dark tray t-shirt. He shuffles over to the side of the bed and hang's his legs off the edge until they hit the floor. Sam stands up hastily on his feet, stretches his tall, long limbed body, and picks up his jeans from the floor. Swiftly, he makes his way to the bathroom. Sam slams the door and locks it.

After quickly going to the bathroom, he washes his hand and face. Grabbing his toothbrush, he puts a huge glob of toothpaste on and runs it under the stream of water. While he's brushing his teeth, he starts to think about what he and Dean are going to do today. Dean probably wants to work on the case they started yesterday, and not talk about last night. Sam didn't want to work on the case though; not after what happened. He can still remember all the drunk yelling from his older brother. How Sam screamed at him, saying he hates him, and didn't want this kind of life anymore. Dean can't really blame him for wanting a  _normal_ life. He was forced into this; he grew up in this environment where hunting monsters  _was_ normal for them.

* * *

 

Still sitting on the couch, Dean tuned out the news, and started focusing on his own thoughts. He felt so guilty for last night; Sam is still  _really_ pissed at him. He knew that they'd most likely talk about it, even though he didn't want too. Dean just wanted to finish the job and go to the next town. He wanted to move on from this stupid fight and go back to being brothers again. Even though Sam said all that stuff to him last night, he knows his baby brother still cares about him.

Okay.

That's it.

No more chick-flick moments. He'll make this right with Sam, and he knows just how to do it. Dean grabs his dark brown leather jacket, slips on his hiking boots, and snags the car keys.

Quietly leaving the motel room, he walks over to his baby. The black 1967 Chevy Impala his dad gave him for his 18th birthday. Dean was in love, head over heels, with this car. He opens the front door and gets in. Putting the keys in the ignition, he hears the load purr of his car coming to life, and Led Zeppelin blasting out. He backs out of the parking lot and gets on to the main road of the small town.

* * *

 

Sam opens the bathroom door just enough to see if Dean is sitting on the couch. He's not; he left the room, probably to go get breakfast and real coffee. Sam sighs with relief, knowing he doesn't have to deal with his brother right away. He sits down at the table in front of his laptop, opening it; he decides to do some research for the case. Wanting some background noise, Sam pick's up the TV remote and flips through the channels. He finally finds a channel he's happy with. It was showing his favourite movie, The Matrix.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is! My first story I have ever posted. More chapters to come in the future!  
> Disclaimer: These boys are not mine, this story never happened.


End file.
